You can almost feel the excitement building as we draw closer to the opening of our new Sanctuary on December 5^th. Inside, pews are now installed, carpet is being laid, and finishing touches are being applied to walls and hallways. Outside, the new parking areas are paved and striped, sod has been rolled out, and trees have been planted. It’s starting to look like a church!

Only it isn’t.

We are not building a church. A “church” is a community of people – the family of God – the body of Christ. You and I cannot build a church because only Christ has that responsibility. Don’t you remember how Jesus – referring to the little pebble of Peter’s confession of faith – said, “Upon this rock, I will build my church”?

Like the little song says, “The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the church is not a resting place, the church is a people!”

I am the church! You are the church. We are the church together!

So if not a church, then what in the world are we building over there?

A sanctuary.

Think about that word for a moment: “sanctuary.”

What images come to mind when you think about the word, “sanctuary?”

As I’ve been musing about that word this week I recalled a Sunday here a while ago when I told the story about the residents of LeChambon, France who, during World War II rescued more than 5,000 Jewish refugees  from the holocaust. The local pastor, a fellow by the name of Andre Trocme, is said to have told those who came demanding to know the whereabouts of Jews, “We know of no Jews. We only know men.”

Under Trocme’s leadership, the people of LeChambon took in these Jewish families and hid them in their homes – at great risk to themselves.

There was a couple visiting our service that Sunday, and all during the sermon they seemed emotionally unsettled. I couldn’t imagine what was wrong, so when they came through the door after the service I asked them if something had upset them. “Oh no,” the woman said, “it was a beautiful service. We came to hear our friend play handbells.” Then she went on, “But your story about LeChambon touched us. You see, we are Jews. Our families were Polish Jews during the holocaust. When the Nazis started herding the Jews into the ghettos and death camps in Poland, our families somehow managed to escape. They made it to...France."

"And when France came under Nazi occupation,” she went on, “and they came looking for our families, they were hidden and protected."

And then she said, "You see, the story you told today about the people of Le Chambon is our story because our family was one of those given sanctuary!"

Sanctuary.

A sanctuary is a place where you can come and be hidden away for awhile from the hurts, dangers, failures, uncertainties, and threatening things of life. And a Christian sanctuary carries with it the added meaning that, there in the sanctuary, we are held in the protective arms of God and the community of God’s people who risk themselves to provide others a safe place where they and God can sort out their lives and tend to their wounds. This is why I’ve never quite understood why some churches work so hard to keep out people whose lives aren’t perfect. Divorce, suicide, alternative lifestyles, family problems and so many other human experiences are not met with arms that extend God’s love and protection, but with hands that push people away, back into the cold bitterness of life. I don’t understand it. Perhaps they’ve lost the meaning of “sanctuary.”

I hope we will always be welcoming of refugees from the difficulties of life, and offer them “sanctuary” here.

That’s what we’re building over there – a sanctuary.

A sanctuary is also a place where we are given a gift that is very hard to find in today’s world.

Last Friday we held a “Parents Night Out” here at the Community Church. We provided a supervised program for kids so their parents could have time alone, go do some shopping, or maybe even have a date!

Over at the Marathon station, I ran into one of the mothers who had just dropped off her two beautiful little boys at the CLC. I asked her if she was going to go out and do something special. She said, “No. The kids are safe for a couple hours, my husband is away on a business trip, and I’m going to go into this store, buy some comfort food, and go home and eat it ALONE!”

I said it would be nice the next time we have a Parents Night Out if it could be when her husband is home so they can have a date night. She thought about it for a moment and then said, “Um, no…with two boys and a husband I never have a chance to just have SILENCE.”

People need silence! But there’s not a lot of it to be found in this noisy world where even worship services can be interrupted by the ring of a cellphone.

Silence is a spiritual gift. If you haven’t found it in your life, you need to. Sometimes people think that the antidote for worry and anxiety is to not worry and be anxious! I don’t know about you, but when I worry about not being worried, I just about blow a gasket!

But God’s antidote for worry and anxiety is silence.

Now this is not to say that silence erases worry and anxiety. Those feelings are God-given gifts too, and they are necessary for dealing with the dangers and challenges of life. “Don’t worry, be happy!” is NOT a Christian virtue!

But inserting some silence into the middle of your worry can help you find something that will help you deal with what you’re going through.

It is in silence that we best meet God.

“Be still, and know that I am God,” offers the psalmist in Psalm 46.

Be still, and become aware of God-with-you.

There’s a wonderful story in 1 Kings 19 where the disillusioned, anxiety-ridden prophet Elijah asks to find God who he has lost. An angel tells Elijah to go up to the top of Mt. Horeb because there God will pass by and Elijah will encounter him. So Elijah goes up the mountain. Suddenly, there is a mighty wind that blows over the mountain.

But, God is not in the wind.

After the wind, the mountain begins trembling and a great earthquake shakes its foundations.

But, God is not in the earthquake.

And after the earthquake comes a raging fire spreading all across the mountain.

But, God is not in the fire.

And then we read these words, “After the wind, earthquake and fire came ‘qol demama daqqa’.”

The sound of sheer silence.

It was in the silence that Elijah found the presence of God.

A sanctuary is one of the few places in life anymore where you can experience silence.

A sanctuary is a place of protection. And it is a place where you can practice silence in which God draws near to help you deal with all the worries and anxieties you are facing.

And most importantly, a sanctuary is a visible reminder of God’s vision for the world.

Our reading from Isaiah 65 is one we should turn to with great regularity. It is a description of the world God is at work creating and that God calls us to help build. And when you think about it, it is a description of “sanctuary.” Listen to these elements of the world God dreams about, with a little paraphrasing on my part: the sound of weeping and crying will be heard in it no more; babies will be born and live healthy, safe lives and children will never again be the victims of misfortune; old people will be as vital at 100 as they were at 16 – I say, “Hip! Hip! Hooray!”; everyone will have a safe home in which to dwell and raise their family; no one will go hungry; never again will evildoers exploit the people and rob them of their lives; the lion and the lamb will lie down together and God’s four-legged, and two-winged, and even fin-propelled creatures will be protected and live peaceably among us; and all creation will be blessed by the Lord.

Sanctuary. The world God is building is a sanctuary for God’s creation.

And every time we enter a sanctuary, we come face to face with symbols and architecture and art and words and music that lift our eyes higher than our own self-serving needs.

So a sanctuary protects. A sanctuary provides a space of silence within all the noise of life. And a sanctuary lifts us to higher purpose.

You probably know that the trend in church architecture today is to build auditoriums. Auditoriums are for performance and modern worship sometimes seems to take on the form of a rock concert where worshipers are immersed in a bombardment of constantly changing images, sounds and multimedia.

I’m proud of the fact that you chose not to build an auditorium. Instead, you chose to go against the flow. You chose to build a sanctuary.

Auditoriums are places where worship is performed. Sanctuaries are places where God is experienced as our protector, where God speaks to us in the sound of sheer silence, and where we hear God’s call to go and serve.

So in a few weeks we’ll move into our new Sanctuary. I want to ask you to do three things:

First, think about people you know who are bearing the great burdens of life, and invite them to come into the protective and loving arms of God. Take some of those printed invitations and, instead of just passing them out to people who already have a church home, try to put them in the hands of people who don’t – especially people who are hurting. Invite them to find sanctuary here.

Second, begin to practice silence in your life. Our church – like our Village – is full of noise. Everybody has an opinion. Everybody knows how the church should be run. Everybody thinks that the Christian church should be more like major business corporations that are enjoying great success through the government bailout program. Those who have ears, let them hear.

Here’s what I propose.

Let’s shhhhhhhhh!…for a little while, and learn to listen to the still, small voice of God. We will be a better, more effective church if we can do that. And if you can build a discipline of silence into your own life each day, you will find strength and wisdom and grace for living life fully.

And finally, let’s take hold of God’s vision that we experience each time we enter a sanctuary. Here is a cross, above all other symbols, reminding us that Jesus died for the whole world. There is the window that tells how God is a shepherd and protects his flock, his people. There is another window that recalls Jesus calling his followers to become fishers of men. Whenever you enter a sanctuary, open your eyes and see things that remind you of the high purpose God has called us to.

I’m excited about the days ahead, and I am so thankful that you have chosen to build a sanctuary. May God use our Sanctuary to protect, strengthen and inspire God’s children for hundreds of years to come.

Amen.